The test had been simple.
A biscuit jar in the Hufflepuff common room. Enchanted to yell insults whenever opened. They'd performed the prank, cast Mnemomorphia on themselves, and waited. A day later, when the charm wore off and their memories returned with a soft click, it was like waking from a vivid dream.
Hadrian had blinked at the returning memory mid-Transfiguration. Iris gasped audibly in Herbology when she recalled enchanting the cookie tin to call someone a "cabbage-brained squirrel wrangler." Dora had burst into laughter in the library while reading a textbook and remembering how they forgot it was them and wondered aloud who the "biscuit saboteurs" were.
The spell worked.
Now they stood gathered around one of the hidden nooks near the moving staircase—just out of sight, but with a perfect view of foot traffic.
"We call this one: Operation Haunting Homework," Dora announced, unrolling a scrap of parchment filled with notes and diagrams.
Iris grinned. "Moving quills, floating books, notes scribbling themselves in eerie script. The usual ghostly flair."
"Plus," Hadrian added, "if someone says the phrase 'I hate essays,' their ink bottle will start crying. Loudly."
Dora tapped the parchment. "We rig a few tables in the library and one in each common room. No real harm, just a lot of confused students and more than a few ghost stories."
"And we cast Mnemomorphia on ourselves the moment we're done," Iris said, nodding firmly. "Short-term this time. Maybe twelve hours?"
"Just enough to get through tomorrow with no suspicious behavior," Hadrian agreed. "Then we 'remember' it again in time to enjoy the aftermath."
The trio exchanged grins, already riding the thrill of the coming prank.
With careful steps and whispered plans, they moved into the shadows. The mischief was coming—not only perfectly executed, but now practically untraceable.
The Marauders were back.
And this time, even they wouldn't remember it was them… until it was too late.